Suspension Bridge, op 4
by Chibi Lurrel
Summary: "Eames meets Arthur in a pub in London. Or, Eames meets Arthur's gun when he tries to steal Arthur's wallet in a pub in London." Arthur/Eames, getting trigger-happy. One-shot.


_4 times Arthur & Eames accidentally forgot they weren't in a dream anymore and almost shot each other in the face during an argument, and 1 time one of them actually did. :D__  
_

**Suspension Bridge, op. 4**

01: Natural

Eames meets Arthur in a pub in London.

Or, Eames meets Arthur's gun when he tries to steal Arthur's wallet in a pub in London.

There's no hesitation, just a single fluid movement – the second Eames' hand brushes against Arthur, his arm ripples to his side holster and the gun appears, aimed at his forehead. Eames is trapped in a crouch, Arthur looming over him, still seated at the bar.

"Are you our forger?" Arthur asks, voice disinterested, mouth pursed in disappointment.

"I, er," Eames starts, and then he takes a deep breath. "Yes. Eames, nice to meet you." Eames removes his hand from Arthur's back pocket and holds it out to shake, smiling winningly, but the gun stays trained.

"You're late," he says, and Eames hears the safety click.

"Hey!" Dom Cobb is sitting in the stool next to Arthur and Eames will never be more relieved to see him than he is at that moment. Cobb grabs Arthur's wrist and sweeps his thumb over the veins there. "We've woken up."

Arthur blinks, but his eyes are closed for a little too long, and Eames is unsettled. The gun returns to its holster.

"I'm Arthur," he says, taking Eames' hand in a firm grip.

02: Hover

Eames turns out to be insufferably perfect at everything he does. His passports are immaculate, his forgeries have never been questioned, he always wins at blackjack.

Arthur grumbles about things like "professionalism" and "sexual harassment" and "inappropriate business wear," but even Eames knows he won't even bother calling anyone else for a job that needs his talents. It makes him feel a little proud every time Arthur's name appears on his cell phone screen, and the sums of money he gets paid by Dom Cobb make him the envy of the world's thieves and forgers.

So when they cross-paths at an "industry function" in an absurdly constructed hotel in Dubai, Eames doesn't expect to see Arthur in the corner chatting with Ravi, who is second-rate at best. Arthur's long fingers are wrapped around a crystal tumbler of some golden brown illegal liquor, and Ravi's teeth are shining.

They're laughing.

Eames is drunk, but Eames is often drunk, so that can't be why the need to stride over there and get territorial felt the same as a blind rush of rage, his vision red whenever he blinks.

Later, he blames it on the Burj al Arab, its ludicrous construction, its very existence, for why he can't tell that the room is real and not in his mind.

Later.

First, though, he corners them both against the wall, putting a crushing grip on Arthur's right shoulder.

"Sorry, Rav, can I borrow Arthur for a bit?" he asks, but it's not really a question as his left hand is resting on the gun under his jacket. Ravi scampers away and Arthur's eyes are clenched tightly. His blinks take too long, and his breathing is obscenely regular. "Eames," he says placidly when he opens his eyes. Eames can see his entire body is tensed, ready to spring.

"Arthur," he replies lightly and pushes his gun into the man's temple. "Fancy seeing you here."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Right. Such a surprise."

"And with Ravi, no less. Planning a job, eh? Networking? Thinking you might want to cut old Eames out of something?" He grinds the gun in.

"No," says Arthur blandly.

Everyone in the room is pretending not to see them, which strikes Eames as very unprojection-like behavior. Fucking Arthur always has to find new ways under his skin.

"Then what was that little tryst I just saw, darling?" he hisses.

"Maybe I was just _flirting_, Eames."

It startles him enough that Arthur can grab his wrist and twist the gun out of his hand. He's on the floor with Arthur's foot pinning him down before he knows what's happened.

"Drunk makes you stupid," he says at Eames. "So don't be when I see you next." Arthur casually tosses an envelope on the ground next to Eames' head.

"You might want to invest in a totem," Arthur says as he walks away.

The envelope has "Mr. Eames" written in neat printed letters.

Inside is a job.

****03: Passing Change

Arthur's hands never stop moving.

Eames notices, because there is no way to not notice those fine-boned fingers as they tap a pen on a desk, or scribble notes in a Moleskine, or straighten his tie. He paces, too, when he's trying to figure out a map or how to construct a building. Sometimes Cobb hires an architect and sometimes he does not, depending on the complexity of the job, leaving the work to Arthur. Eames bets that Arthur can forge passably as well, because Arthur must be able to play any role at a moment's notice.

So Eames is fascinated by just how still Arthur can be when hooked to the PASIV device. His hands uncurl and hang at his side, or sit clasped serenely on his belly, only his chest slowly rising and falling.

He watches when he can, making sure to stay behind the younger man, out of his line of vision upon waking.

Which Arthur does, screaming this time, and Eames grabs his shoulders from behind to keep him from toppling out of his chair. Arthur jerks in his arms, all coiled and panicking, and he pulls a gun that Eames didn't even know was on his person. It hits him in the underside of his chin, and Arthur is wild-eyed.

"Arthur, shush, Arthur. It's okay, you're awake," Eames keeps murmuring endearments as he slowly moves his hands from Arthur's shoulders and raises them in the air. "Nothing here's going to touch you, pet."

The gun gets moved away with another knock against his jaw bone, held loosely in Arthur's hands as he slumps over.

"Should I wake up Cobb?" Eames asks quietly.

Arthur laughs. There's an ugliness to it that's unfamiliar. "He'll be under for a while longer now." His eyes slam shut and he leans back again. "Guess we have some time to ourselves for once," he says, eyes still closed, gun returned to its hiding spot. He tilts back, the top of his head bumping against Eames' chest, and that's when Eames decides to kiss him.

Then, Eames runs.

04: Hesitation**  
**  
Eames touches him too much. It's intentional, of course.

They don't talk about much anymore, because Eames has decided he doesn't want to know too much about Arthur or Cobb. They are too tightly knit, and what he has learned, he wants to forget. When he matches incidents to the tightening of Arthur's face or a shadow in Cobb's eyes, he stops digging.

He'd tried to forge Arthur, once, and had failed spectacularly.

So when they are alone, practicing close grappling the dark warehouse, and he ruffles Arthur's hair, it's his way of learning Arthur without learning about him. He memorizes the way Arthur snarls and twists his neck to get away, and the way their eyes lock.

Arthur huffs under his weight on the mat, pinned, but manages to ratchet him off with powerful legs.

They circle each other and each movement promises violence. There's never a winner when they spar, and this match is no different. It only ends when first blood is drawn – Eames' elbow smashing into Arthur's nose.

When the blood starts flowing they spring apart, and Arthur pulls into his normal stance of calm and collected, even with one hand pinching his nose.

"Good fight, hmm?" Eames says – he is panting and damp.

"As usual."

When Arthur comes out of the bathroom, Eames is also already dressed, and is leaning against the wall near a record player. Arthur adjusts his tie and levels a long gaze at him.

"What's all this?" Arthur's curiosity is piqued, so Eames counts that as a victory.

"I thought we could practice a little more close combat," Eames says as he moves the needle over the LP. He gives himself the luxury of a self-satisfied smirk as Strauss (II, of course) starts to play.

"Oh?" Arthur's face twitches and something like a smile runs over his mouth when Eames holds out his hand.

Eames is a little startled at how well Arthur follows, keeping his arms stiff and his gaze to the side of Eames' face. His Viennese is almost so perfect that Eames feels they could be in a ballroom competition as they lilt around the room. He enjoys the warmth of Arthur's chest near his own, and the way their legs move in concert.

When Eames spins him at the end of the song, he breaks form and dips the man low, draping himself over Arthur. He steals the kiss, and feels a little thrill run up his spine when Arthur's mouth opens into his.

They break quickly, and Arthur's eyes are unfocused. "Eames," he warns, voice a growl. They both look down at the gun in Arthur's hand. It's already cocked.

Arthur runs.

05: Reverse Turn

Arthur can't take a fucking joke.

The bullet lands in the wall an inch from Eames' ear.

Eames' shot is a little wild, so his hits the door frame of his hotel room, the wood that is surrounding Arthur's form as he stands with his teeth bared, gun drawn.

"What the fuck?"

Eames thinks now that maybe the champagne and chocolates were a little too forward. Perhaps he shouldn't have sent the singing telegram. The balloons were definitely too much.

"You didn't think I was going to let our anniversary pass without any fanfare, did you?"

Arthur shoots again, the bullet joining its sibling in framing the sides of Eames' face in the wall. They lock eyes, and Eames can hear both of them breathing heavily. Arthur's gun arm trembles. Eames doesn't blink.

"Careful there, Arthur, my face is a priceless commodity in several countries."

"Shut up," Arthur grinds out, but he stalks toward Eames anyway.

"It's the anniversary of the first time I got your gun in my face, I mean," Eames continues, and he grins.

"I said shut up."

"I knew I should have got the roses –" and then Arthur shuts him up, open mouth against open mouth.

The guns drop to the floor.


End file.
